Budapest
by ILOVEJESSENGLAND
Summary: Another version of what could have happened in Budapest; Natasha and Clint are sent to the Hungarian captial for one of their most memorable missions...


**Hello again, so yeah, I know this has been overdone in almost every way possible, and as such I haven't read any of these stories cause I wanted to do this one; so if there is anything similar about this story and any others then apologies, it's completely accidental. Scouts honour. Anyway this is dedicated to two people, firstly 'lovestory121' for getting me onto this damn website! But also to 'cupoftea991' who made the Youtube video on which this is based, here check it out ** watch?v=lUlb8N5-cuE

**Budapest**

'_Well, if this isn't the man of my dreams I don't know who is,'_

Natasha's eyes scanned the black and white picture carefully, tracing for any memorable details, before proceeding to read the file information. After mental noting the details, she altered her gaze onto the second image.

'_God, he's even worse than the first...'_

Skimming the case details, her eyes widened slightly at the information. Shifting the book file into one hand, the removed the flashlight from between her teeth and gently pressed to activate the speech function on the earpiece in her left ear.

"Good news, bad news?"

The receiver crackled slightly as the male voice on the other end sighed,

"Good news."

"Well, our information was right on the names and locations."

"Okay…"

"That's the only information we had right. They're not just traders, they're the ringleaders…"

Natasha paused and waited for the bigger sigh and obligatory muttered curse word she was expecting before carrying on,

"Which one are you meeting?"

"László."

Natasha went to tap her earpiece again, but froze. Narrowing her eyes she removed the earpiece from her ear, and tilted her head to the right, listening intently.

'_I could have sworn I heard a…'_

A low muffled rumbling noise began above her. Staring at the ceiling, there was definitely a rhythmic clanking sound accompanying the rumbling.

Footsteps and male guard voices.

Swiftly she returned the flashlight to its previous position between her teeth, and closed the file, returning it to the drawer she had extracted it from. Moving silently, she crept over to the door, and one hand grasping the handle, she pressed her face against the cold sheet of metal. The rumbling and clanking were slightly louder, but still appeared to be a distance away. Expertly, she prised the door open without a sound, and pulled it closed, the electronic lock system reactivated instantly. Sweeping the corridor with her eyes until she was satisfied that no one was with her for the moment, she paced over towards the thin ventilation system pipe she had noticed earlier that ran from the floor to the ceiling, where a system of bigger ventilation shafts were located.

'_C'mon mental calculations, don't fail me now,'_

Running towards the wall, she aimed for the corner, jumping and placing one foot on each wall, her right foot narrowly connecting with the wall before her left foot found the adjoining wall. Pushing off with each foot systematically, she created a slight running effect, which succeeded in twisting her body round so that she was now facing the ventilation pole that she was flying through the air towards. Effortlessly grabbing the pole as high as she could, Natasha allowed the momentum she had built up to swing her round the pole, and aiming her legs towards the ceiling, she released her hands. Manoeuvring her body in the air, she could hear the rumbling voices becoming more intelligible and louder, causing her to lose focus slightly and as a result her back slammed into the wall. Quickly planting her feet down to balance her at her newfound height on the shafts, Natasha quickly crouched down and charged up her sting bracelets, wary that although any noise she may have made would have been minimal, she didn't fancy taking a chance with these men.

"NATASHA?"

'_Crap.'_

Grimacing at the amount of noise her partner was making through the headpiece, Natasha she grabbed it from where it was dangling by her neck, and hissed into it,

"безмолвие!" (Silence)

She gave silent thanks for the lack of activity that followed from her earpiece, although she knew it was not a happy silence from the other end. Placing her communication device back into her ear, she stared eagle-eyed towards the metal staircase at the other end of the corridor. From what she could hear of the voices and footsteps now, she estimated that the men were at the top of the steps at the moment, and that there were two or three men. Although she had previously inspected the corridor, she familiarised herself with it again as she waited. It was a long corridor, reasonably narrow, probably three person astride in width. It was all white apart from the black line around the top part of the walls, pristinely clean, and completely empty, which she supposed wasn't completely strange considering this was a prison facility. She had selected this spot as the best location in case of an attack when she had been scoping out the corridor earlier, she was perched above anyone who came down, which was not her usual tactic, and if she was honest she didn't particularly like being away from the ground, however this was the only area that provided her with any cover, in terms of both the vents and the black paint.

'_Clint'd be proud,'_ she mused to herself.

Securing her two pistols into her double thigh holsters, carefully laying herself stomach down onto the vent, Natasha prepared herself for the incoming guards. From the speed it seemed more likely that the men were ambling around on a scheduled check, rather than having heard her down here; and sure enough, the men soon appeared at the bottom of the stairs, joking in Hungarian, and barely directing a glance to their surroundings. They continued walking down the corridor towards her, oblivious to the assassin above them. Not even a minute after they had been satisfied with their checks, one of the guard's radios buzzed to life, and urgent voice barking,

"**Ellenőrizze a Fájl szoba!**" (Check the File room!)

Before the man could reach his receiver to return a message, Natasha was rolling off her perch. It seemed she had picked the perfect spot, as she managed to fall directly above the guard whose radio had bleeped. Her feet connected hard with his right shoulder as he reached down to grab the device, and although she weighed considerably less than the man, he dipped to the right severely and feel to his knees with a scream and an audible crunch. She swiftly followed with a surge of electricity from one of her stings to his neck in order to silence him. Lifting her head to check where the other two guards where she noticed the initial period of shock that usually accompanied her entrance had begun to wear off and the men were advancing on her. Running from the sprint starting position she had landed in, she raced at the first man. Raising her leg, she stamped down on the inside his left knee cap, and pushed through to raise her other leg over his right shoulder, effectively running up the man. She swiftly moved her other leg from his knee, positioning it to the bare shoulder, and flung herself backwards with all her weight. The guard, who was already in agony clutching his knee cap, realised what was happening too late, and grabbed at her thighs as he plummeted forwards to the ground, connecting with the tough surface head first. Natasha, who had tucked her body to the side of the man's bulk as to not get pinned by him, rolled to her feet and glared towards the last standing guard. Or at least to where she believed he was. A sharp pain shot through her scalp as a hand grabbed at her hair and gave it an almighty tug, lifting her briefly off her feet and releasing her crimson curls from where they had been pinned in the process. Stifling a yell, when her feet returned to the ground Natasha brought her elbow back with great force into the man's stomach. He hunched over slightly and released her hair. Twisting round, she delivered a roundhouse kick to the man's face, sending him sprawling backwards to the ground. Massaging her scalp she walked over to his body, and kicked apart his legs, before delivering her second sting to his groin,

"Soha nem a Lány haját, seggfej" (Never the girl's hair, asshole)

Clint paced up and down the carpeted floor of the room, pausing on occasion to stare out the giant glass windows. It would have been easy to mistake his behaviour for nervousness, but that wasn't it at all. He was **pissed**.

'_Silence! She stopped answering me mid- conversation and then __**silence**__!'_

He knew she had taken her earpiece out. She did it frequently when she needed to focus on listening, and it pissed him off to high heaven. The first time she had done it had been their second assignment together; and the result had been him assuming that she was dead/unconscious and rushing to help her, had accidentally alerted everyone to their presence and almost gotten them killed. It had taken a while for them to reconcile over the incident, and it was something that they still preferred not to speak about. Clint remembered how he had tried to reason with her and explain how it was important for her to keep in in so he could contact her when he was up in the air. She had simply shrugged and replied that she hated the thing and wasn't used to wearing one. She'd come a long way from being the loner Russian defector she once was, but some habits seemed to die hard, and this one was sticking. He had been conversing with her, well **attempting** to converse with her for a good few minutes before he had realised what she had done and yelled through the earpiece in order to get her attention. In his defence, he had been waiting patiently, a series of rustling noises streaming through his earpiece which he had taken to the sounds of her movement during a battle; it was only when the brain-bleaching screech tore across his skull, leaving him to assume that her earpiece had been smashed or switched off, that he had yelled.

Currently he was pacing in order to remove his anger as he waited for a response. Eventually his earpiece finally cracked to life again,

"László's the face of the operation."

Her voice came through breathy, and he always thought it was funny how the Russian edge to her voice increased when she was out of breath. Or had just killed someone….

"Csaba's the brains."

He continued her statement on the hierarchy of roles, understanding now why it had been so easy to contact one of the men but the other had just been a name.

"Remove the face."

She stated in her trademark deadpan before cutting off her comms. Clint shook his head, smirking as he did,

'_Delicate as always Nat,'_

He raised his right arm and pulled back the suit sleeve to check his watch. He had a little over five minutes until the scheduled time for his meeting with László, but from his experience he would be early.

'_And he'll probably bring a lackey or two along, just in case…'_

He smoothed his suit jacket arm back down, and quickly checked his appearance in the mirror, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. After he was comfortable, he walked over to the coffee table and sofa set up of the hotel room and retrieved a medium sized silver briefcase from down the side of an armchair, placing it down onto the coffee table. As soon as he had done so a loud, swift knock came from the doorway.

'_Here boy,'_

Clint strode over to the door, and pulled it back, flashing a courtesy smile at the two large men stood in front of him.

'_Well I called that one,'_

"Gentlemen," he greeted, "Which one of you bodybuilders do I call László?"

"That would be me,"

A clicking of fingers echoed through the quiet hallway, and the two giant men moved apart to reveal a significantly smaller man, much closer to Clint's own height. He had long, dark, floppy hair, the way Hollywood actors usually had it styled, pushed back to reveal golden skin and a mega-watt smile.

'_Just as I imagined…. but who are you?'_

By his side was a woman. Clint did a double take at the sight of her; no-one had said anything about a woman in this operation. He assumed she hadn't been mentioned in the prison files or he was sure Natasha would have mentioned her to him; this didn't settle him though, if anything it made him more cautious. He allowed himself to eye the woman for a moment. She had light blonde hair, cut quite short, and was tall for a woman. She was wearing a smart dress, which matched with all the suits of the men, although he could sense that this wasn't her ideal outfit from the slightly uncomfortable way she held herself. He also noticed that she had only briefly glimpsed at him once, instead keeping her attention fixated on László, who was now moving towards Clint, one hand extended out,

"And I can presume you are Mr Royce?"

Clint nodded his head, returning a big smile at the man,

"You can indeed."

"Good,"

László raised his free hand, still clasping Clint's hand with the other, at the identification, and snapped his fingers again, pointing in the direction of the sofas. The suited lackeys hurried into the room, followed by the woman who placed her large handbag onto the table and took a seat. The men remained standing, each taking a position on either side of her chair. Clint felt a squeeze on his hand and turned to face László who was gesturing towards where the other three were sat,

"Shall we get down to business?"

Clint nodded again, releasing the man's hand and striding over to the armchair which he had placed the briefcase in front of and offered him the seat. Clint always preferred to be standing in these kinds of situations anyway. László took the seat, grabbed the briefcase and pushed in the release buttons, but paused before opening it. He turned to face Clint,

"May I?"

'_This sleazy polite bastard routine is something else,'_

"Go ahead," Clint smiled back, "After all it's **your** money now."

"Ahh yes," the man leaned back in his chair, "if I agree to give you the weapon technology,"

Clint resisted the urge to bang the man's skull against the glass table as the slime could pretty much be heard dripping from the man's words when he spoke.

'_Why do I feel a double cross coming on here?'_

"However," the man Hungarian accent sunk deep into the word, "I have a slight trust issue," he continued to flash his cheesy smile at Clint while he spoke, and out of the corner of his eye Clint noticed the woman grip the handle of the bag on the table.

"I'm amazed if I've done something to cause you not to trust me in the last two minutes,"

Clint forced a smile back at the man, who laughed at the archer's words.

"Try not to take this too personally, but," the man stopped laughing at looked at his bodyguards, "it's a matter of self-preservation I'm afraid Mr Royce."

Immediately at the end of his sentence, one of the huge men lunged forwards at Clint, his hands outstretched and aiming for the assassin's neck. Clint ducked under the man's huge bulk and to the left of him, allowing the man to speed past him. The second man had drawn his gun and was directing it straight at Clint running towards him, while László dashed out towards the door. The bodyguard's gun was now almost in Clint's face, he grabbed the barrel of the pistol, sliding it forwards and releasing the ammo. The guard looked down at the bullets which were now cascading to the floor, and Clint, still holding the barrel, rammed his hand backwards into the man's face, causing him to fling rearwards, falling over the chair and through the glass coffee table. Clint turned to see the other lackey had recovered and was coming for him, one arm raised. Clint raised his forearm to deflect the blow, and seized the man's other arm as he tried to bring a second attack. Still grasping the man's elbow, he raised the arm he had used as a shield before and struck his elbow into the side of the man's face, connecting with the guy's cheekbone. The sound of hurried footsteps distracted him as the man crumpled to the ground, and he turned to see a flurry of blonde hair rushing out of the door. Racing after her, he left the room and was faced with the empty hotel hallway.

'_Outpaced by a chick in heels, this part is not going on my report…'_

A loud bang from the direction of the stairwell door interrupted his though process, a grin spread over his face. Tearing down the corridor, he pushed open the stairwell door with ease, grabbed the bannister with one hand and vaulted himself over to the second set of steps. Pounding down the flights, he soon caught up with her, until she was merely a few steps ahead. She reached the platform at the bottom of the current flight of stairs she was on and turned around violently, aiming a kick at his chest and missing only due to the expert dodge he managed at the last second. Eyes wide he sized her up. She had torn a rip up one side of her dress, clearly for easier manoeuvrability and had removed her heels, a stiletto in each hand pointed towards him. She threw her bag over into the corner and crouched slightly, raising her shoe weapons.

"I don't want to hurt you," she called out to him, "but I will."

He stared at her in surprise, her accent wasn't what he had been expecting, although, the more he looked at her the less Hungarian she looked,

"You're British?"

He cursed in his head at how dumb the question had sounded, and the girl also gave him a strange look before nodding,

"Yes, well done for that obvious deduction."

Shaking his head slightly at her bluntness, he cleared his throat in an attempt to reason with her, still in a position readied to fight,

"Look, I'm really not that concerned about you, more with your boss, so you wanna move out of my way?"

She stared at him incredulously,

"You're seriously telling me you chased me all the way down here with no intention of fighting me?"

Clint grinned at her,

"Well I can't promise that, but I'm not exactly into beating up a woman unless she gives me no choice…."

"What makes you think you could beat me?"

He looked for a joking aspect to her question but she was deadly serious. He cocked his head to one side in response and shrugged, still grinning,

"Look 'Nikita' or whoever you think you are; you mind stepping aside so I can finish with my business?"

She narrowed her eyes as she scrutinised him carefully, before straightening up out of her crouching position,

"What makes you trust me?"

Clint, exasperated now by the woman, took advantage of her lowering her 'weapons'. Speedily sliding his silver suit jacket off so that it was inside out and he was holding the cuffs. Using the element of surprise in his favour, he raised his fists slightly and brought them down with reasonable force on top of the woman's hands, causing her to drop the shoes. Before she had time to react, Clint had already slid the jacket onto her hands and pulled the sleeves up her arms, effectively creating a make-shift straight jacket for her. The glare she directed at him was venomous, and strangely reminded him of Natasha. Winking at her, he turned and started running down the remaining steps,

"I'm not sure," he called over his shoulder, "call it intuition!"

He was down a flight of stairs, before he heard her shout after him,

"I can get you László!"


End file.
